


Fever Dream

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fever, Fever Dream, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Kissing, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames gets a bad fever while on a job and Arthur is the one who ends up taking care of him. The day doesn't end the way Arthur expected, but he can't say he minds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever Dream

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**

“I was wondering if you’d ever show up,” Arthur said without looking up when he heard the hotel suite door click open and fall closed. Silence answered him and Arthur lifted his head. “Eames?”

 

Eames was there, but clearly shouldn’t be. His skin was pale and sweaty, his hair pushed back by hand. Eames was leaning heavily on the couch by the door and staring at Arthur but his eyes were glassy, unfocused. “Arthur,” Eames croaked, grimacing as he heard his own voice. “Sorry ‘m late.”

 

 _Late_ didn’t even begin to cover it. The rest of the team had already gone back to their rooms for the night; Dom had mentioned calling his kids and Ariadne had gone out to watch a movie. She had offered for Arthur to join her but Arthur had politely declined, determined to complete some extra background research on their mark’s acquaintances – both friends and enemies alike – who might influence the way the mark dreamed.

 

Eames was supposed to arrive hours ago; by lunch at the latest. No one had seen him though and Arthur had assumed Eames was either oversleeping or skirting his forging practice in order to explore the surrounding town of Zurich. Apparently Arthur had been wrong, judging by how sick Eames appeared. “Don’t worry,” Arthur said evenly, not allowing concern to soften his tone too noticeably. “You can do more practice tomorrow. We have another week.”

 

“No I…” Eames trailed off for a moment, wetting his lips. “I need to practice,” Eames insisted. He took a wobbly step forward and quickly grabbed the armrest of the couch again before he toppled to the carpet.

 

“ _No_ ,” Arthur ground out. “What you _need_ to do is _rest_.”

 

“’M fine,” Eames mumbled, this time keeping a strategic hold on the couch as he moved around to sit down. He collapsed onto the cushions heavily and immediately slumped back, looking half asleep already.

 

Arthur prayed for patience and stood from the desk. “Eames, you need to see a doctor.”

 

“I’ll just go down for a little while. Ten minutes. I just need to remember how the mark…” Eames trailed off again, fumbling to get the PASIV device open and set up on the coffee table. His hands were shaking noticeably.

 

“Are you even listening to me?” Arthur grumbled.

 

“No.”

 

Arthur scowled. He didn’t know for certain but based on how Eames looked and was behaving Arthur assumed he had a bad fever. If Eames had merely had a cold or even if he was vomiting Arthur would let him go down into the dream; let the stubborn man enjoy his muffled senses or amplified nausea and learn a lesson from it. But fever dreams could be dangerous. They were warped and scary, and Arthur had heard of more than one person being driven insane by what their subconscious created while under the influence of a bad fever.

 

Eames was a pain in the ass but that didn’t mean Arthur wanted him to completely lose it.

 

“I’ll go down with you,” Arthur said in a way that left no room for argument. He doubted Eames would actually get any work done but as long as Arthur could keep him focused and stable until the timer ran out, hopefully he could influence the dream to keep it relatively normal. Once they woke up again Arthur hoped Eames would be less stubborn about trying again and instead agree to rest.

 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about me,” Eames said, though he held out the first lead in offering when Arthur stepped closer.

 

Arthur plucked the lead from Eames’ fingers and sat down beside him on the couch. “I need a functional forger for this job,” Arthur reminded Eames, not bothering to admit that he was worried for other reasons as well.

 

Eames leaned a bit closer and Arthur wasn’t sure if it was only because Eames seemed to be struggling to sit up straight on his own. “Have I ever let you down, darling?” His smile was weak but present and Arthur had a hard time not returning the smile.

 

“Rarely, Mister Eames,” Arthur’s voice was hushed. He brushed Eames’ hair from his forehead, an unnecessary caress, and then slipped the needle beneath Eames’ skin. “Now sleep.”

 

Eames was unconscious immediately and Arthur led him back to lean against one of the armrests. Then Arthur sterilized a second needle and slipped it under his own skin, bracing himself for what was awaiting him in Eames’ fevered thoughts.

 

#

 

Before Arthur even opened his eyes he was hit by a wave of dizzying nausea. And as soon as he opened his eyes he knew why. Arthur gripped the seawater-soaked railing of the ship which was rolling to and fro as the ocean waves crashed against the hull. There was no land in sight in any direction. Arthur cursed Eames’ stubbornness as well as his own and then forced himself away from the railing in search of Eames.

 

Judging by the massive wooden build of the ship, the three masts with billowing sails, and the crew milling about tying ropes and cleaning the deck, Arthur assumed that Eames had drawn up some old Victorian ship from days long gone. Arthur gritted his teeth as the rocking waves churned his stomach, reminding himself that things could be worse. At least the size of this dream was small and contained; a cityscape would’ve quickly overwhelmed them.

 

Arthur forced himself to begin walking towards the captain’s cabin at the aft of the ship, ignoring the wind biting against his face and the way that the grainy railing under his palm seemed electric to touch. Arthur had never experienced a fever dream with a PASIV but he remembered having some natural fever dreams when he was a child, hating how everything felt sharp and unstable.

 

Eames’ projections in the form of crewmen gave Arthur sidelong looks as he passed. Whenever Arthur glanced back at them they would look away, but Arthur could read the misery on their faces. No part of Eames actually wanted to be here. Determined to talk some sense into Eames or perhaps just force Eames awake, Arthur continued across the deck and pushed his way into the captain’s cabin without knocking.

 

He froze immediately inside the door when he heard voices. To be specific, he heard _his_ voice.

 

“Captain, I’ve told you a thousand times that you’re not going to get better if you don’t _rest_ ,” Arthur heard himself say, even though he wasn’t the one speaking.

 

“I know, doctor,” Eames’ voice was just as recognizable as he sighed. “But I can’t let you down. If I let myself rest then the ship and the crew will be vulnerable. _You_ will be vulnerable and I can’t—!”

 

“ _Hush_ ,” the projection of Arthur cut Eames off. “You’re doing a fine job, but if you keep pushing yourself then you’ll get even sicker. You’re not going to die and leave me alone, are you?”

 

“No,” Eames’ voice wobbled. “No, never.”

 

“Then rest,” the doctor soothed.

 

The cabin fell silent except for the creaking of wood as the ship continued to sway. Hesitantly Arthur stepped further into the cabin, glancing around the corner. He saw the projection of himself dressed in Victorian clothing, seated on the bed with Eames’ head in his lap. Eames was curled up in bed looking just as sick as he had in reality, except his face and body looked calmer. Arthur assumed this was because the projection of Arthur was softly stroking Eames’ hair; a caress imitating the one Arthur had shared in reality without much consideration about whether Eames was even aware of Arthur’s touch.

 

The sound of the floorboards creaking under Arthur’s weight drew Eames’ attention. Immediately he paled further and struggled to sit up, though he looked sicker after the sudden movement. “Arthur, please don’t be upset!”

 

Arthur felt dazed, like he had been hit over the back of the head. He understood why Eames was worried; Eames and Arthur had never broached this topic before in shared dream or reality. The fact that they had ended up making out on New Year’s Eve last year at Ariadne’s flat was never talked about. Nor was the loyalty and trust that had been built between them over the years. It hadn’t seemed…necessary. What they shared didn’t need to be labelled.

 

Arthur was surprised but also pleased to know that he was the one Eames dreamed of when seeking safety and comfort, and despite being relatively new to how this should be handled, Arthur didn’t see a reason to fight this. After all, Arthur had long since grown familiar with the weight of concern and the warmth of affection that came with caring for Eames.

 

“I’m not upset,” he promised Eames as he stepped closer. Arthur sat down on the edge of the bed, watching as his projection faded away; Eames’ full attention was on the real Arthur now. Eames reached for Arthur, hand unsteady, and Arthur laced their fingers together. “Are you finished being stubborn?” Arthur asked, teasing lightly.

 

"This was better than being miserable alone in bed," Eames defended. Arthur couldn't tell if Eames' cheeks were red because of his fever or a blush.

 

"Why didn't you call me?" Arthur wondered. "I would've come."

 

"Would you have?" Eames raised an eyebrow, clearly disbelieving.

 

"Of course," Arthur said willingly, squeezing Eames' hand lightly to remind him that they were, in fact, holding hands. Eames ducked his head, a shy smile on his lips. Arthur weathered his bottom lip, realizing that what they shared might not have felt as certain to Eames as it had to Arthur. He was still in no rush to define anything, but Arthur did want to save Eames from his uncertainty. Arthur gently leaned forward and kissed Eames' forehead.

 

When he pulled away Eames' eyes were almost comically wide. His mouth opened as he struggled to find words for a moment, and then he whispered. "You never said anything."

 

"I guess I assumed you knew," Arthur admitted, shrugging awkwardly. He wasn't good at these sorts of talks; he was better at researching and organizing than explaining his emotions and putting his heart on the line. Before Arthur could begin trying – and failing – to find the right words, Eames leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

 

Arthur moaned in surprise. When Eames had come into the hotel room sick and Arthur had followed him down into a dream to ensure he made it back to reality safely, he had not been prepared for a confession of feelings and a first kiss that couldn't be blamed on alcohol. Arthur still felt nervous about the whole thing, worried that this would hinder the balance they had developed into a smooth working relationship. But Eames' kiss was tender and undemanding and Arthur felt himself melting and leaning into it. Despite Arthur's nerves, it felt good to kiss Eames and feel cared for in return.

 

The dream faded from around them and Arthur found himself sitting up from where he had been leaning against Eames on the couch. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and blurrily slid his and Eames' leads from their skin, cleaning everything and storing it away out of habit. Arthur knew that Eames was awake judging by the warm hand shyly caressing Arthur's arm while he worked, but it was clear that Eames was still dazed, caught halfway between his dream and the fever.

 

"Promise me something," Eames whispered, catching Arthur's attention as Arthur closed the PASIV and set it aside. Arthur looked over his shoulder to watch Eames, and waited. Eames took a deep breath. "When I'm not completely delusional, will you assure me that this wasn't just a dream?"

 

"I'd kiss you now," Arthur said a little boldly, still remembering the way his lips had tingled in the dream. "But we really cannot afford to have anyone on this team sick."

 

"Was that a promise?" Eames' lips quirked up.

 

"You know it was," Arthur shot back. Eames chuckled. He stared at Arthur for a long moment, like he couldn't quite believe it, and then his eyes slipped closed as a look of contentment passed over his face. Knowing Eames was minutes away from passing out again, Arthur stood from the couch and prodded Eames into standing as well. Eames' balance was still off but it was easily solved when Arthur offered a shoulder for stability. "For now you're going back to bed before you puke on something and I have to clean it up."

 

"That wouldn't be very romantic," Eames surmised, groaning at being forced to move but still following Arthur's lead as they headed out into the hallway. Arthur would have to come back at some point for his laptop or he could text Dom to pack everything up for him, but for now his belongings would be safe.

 

"No it wouldn't, so please refrain yourself if possible." Every team member was sleeping on a different floor to avoid being grouped together, but luckily Eames was only two flights below the suite and the elevator didn't take long to arrive. Once they were inside Eames' room Arthur led him over to the bed and let Eames curl up under the blankets.

 

"Arthur?" Eames called out with a slight note of panic in his voice when Arthur stepped away from the bed. "Don't leave."

 

"Learn to have a little patience," Arthur chided lightly as he tugged the blankets up around Eames' shoulders. Once he was certain Eames was comfortable Arthur spent a few minutes cleaning up the hotel room, which had been left in a horrible state while Eames took care of himself for the day. Arthur grabbed the plastic trashcan from the bathroom to set by the bed in case Eames got sick and brought over a cool glass of water and a wet cloth.

 

Arthur still felt nervous. He had never planned for something like this to happen between himself and Eames. And yet it just had, and it had all felt a lot simpler than he had imagined. It helped knowing Eames wouldn't send him away, that Eames wanted him here as Arthur crawled onto the bed. He sat back against the headboard and pulled Eames closer until Eames' head was resting in Arthur's lap, mimicking the dream.

 

Remembering how much happier Eames looked in the dream, Arthur offered the water for Eames to sip before placing it on the nightstand and resting the damp cloth against Eames' burning forehead. Eames' skin was still badly flushed and his breathing was a bit shallow, and Arthur slowly slid his fingers into Eames' hair to begin a slow caress and massage. He had never done this for someone before but Eames' body relaxed immediately and Arthur felt his own body releasing the tension built up from preparing for the job.

 

"You'll be here?" Eames questioned after a long time of silence, groggy and more than half asleep.

 

"Yes, I'll be here," Arthur promised, and smiled as he and Eames both drifted back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**


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